Her Hero, Her Enemy
by Mac-alicious
Summary: Because all I want to do is take her back into my arms and I can't. Because she can't depend on me. Because she might be strong for me, but I am still weak. Because I can't be her hero. Because this mark on my arm has already made me her enemy.


A/N: So this came to me and I had to write it...I don't know if it's really that good but I had to write it (it was nagging me). It's full of sentences starting with conjunctions and riddled with run-ons...but it's supposed to be that way. It's about Draco and Hermione (i'm sure you might be able to tell but it's never said). And it's Draco's POV. Um well let me know what you think. -Mac

Disclaimer: Don't own.

**Her Hero, Her Enemy**

It was just too much--being torn between want and obligation. I despise the person I've become--my father. But I am weak. I don't possess the strength to pull away from what has been grounded into me since birth. I can't turn away from it. But that didn't mean that it didn't overwhelm me. It didn't mean that I wasn't physically sick from the malice and hate that I was supposed to be inflicting. I am drowning in it. Simply drowning. Yet I do not fight or struggle. I don't try to find the surface. I can't, because this is my place. This has been my place since I was born. My name, my ancestry puts me here. So I let myself drown in the horror of it all, because I can't bring myself out of it.

But she pulls me out. She stumbles upon me one day on my weakest moments. I have collapsed, I have allowed myself to break down completely. She must want some kind of escape, that's what I had wanted. Sharing that same want is the only thing that would have brought her to me. This startles her, my presence, and she's backing away. But then she collects herself and she stops. She comes toward me instead--seeing the weakness in my eyes as I stare on at her.

She touches me and it's nothing but innocent at first, a caress against my cheek. I would imagine, if I hadn't been so defeated and destructive in my most recent past I would have recoiled. I would have some spiteful words on my tongue. But I don't. I don't push her away. Knowing full well who she is, what she is, I pull her closer. A hand on her waist, a hand on the arm that is reaching out to touch me.

Then the room is changing. It's warm and inviting against the cold and dark I had escaped to. There is the difference between us in its dreary essence: light and dark. I could push her away when I realize this, but I don't. Because suddenly I need this...I need her. Because she is light, she is warmth. And she is inviting me toward her.

As soon as it began, it ends. She is out the door without a word and I am left alone. The darkness swirls around me again. As much as I long for the light, I know my place.

* * *

But then it happens again, and again. And _again._ We somehow we find each other exactly when we need each other. And she is the last person I should be depending on--but I am clinging to her. I'm not drowing anymore--not when she is around. But I am still weak, too weak to turn from them and turn to her--only her. I'm still neck deep, and I can't do that. 

But I've become desperate for something, for her. I battle with myself everytime I want to be near her, everytime I seek her out--knowing that I shouldn't be--but I'm losing that fight. I get this gnawing feeling in my stomache everytime I am away from her. Because I feel like I am going to go under if I don't have her near me.

So it continues, I see her all the time. Even as I plot against all she fights for, I go to her. Not that she knows that, she couldn't. She just needs to hold on as much as I do. I don't know what she's running from--and I don't need to know. She is just there for me and I am grateful. It is an odd, unsettling thing. Appreciation is something new to me.

* * *

From that first day what we do together has changed. The time we spend together has lengthened. At first we would just sit together, just aware of each other. It was as if all the tension and ill feeling between us had evaporated. We didn't have to do anything to soothe each other. We just had to be together and everything seemed simpler--not tangled and complicated. 

Then came the day when she first kissed me. She came to me crying--I don't know what it was about. I didn't dare ask. She didn't say a word, she just collapsed into my arms. When her lips melted into mine, I felt something I had never felt before and I couldn't explain it. All I knew was that I wanted more, more of her. Just more, anything I could get.

After that each time she came to me she would fall into my arms and I would kiss her. I would hold her. I would touch her. And she would kiss me back, she would hold me tight and she would touch me. We only existed in this way when we were together. We found a temporary peace, amongst chaos, in each other.

But as much as I wanted to drown myself in her and never surface again, I had my place and my time was nearing. Changes were about to begin and I didn't know how much longer I could hold onto her before it would hurt to let go. The realization that it was going to hurt either way hit me hard.

* * *

The end is drawing close. Not just the end of us, but the end of our worlds as we know it. The changes are upon us. They're nipping at our toes to make us acknowledge their presence. I want to turn away from them, but I can't ignore them much longer. Not when I play such a big part in making them occur. She doesn't know what I have done and I wish I could keep it that way. Because I've grown to--I don't know what I feel for her. But it's strong. I just wish it was strong enough to change me. But I know my place--and it's not. 

This is the last time I will see her. The last time I will see her this way. I hope--I pray--that I won't have to see her again. Because my heart will break to have to fulfill obligations when I am staring her in the eyes. My heart is already breaking to know I can't stay with her. I must admit that this is why my father has rejected any kind of emotion--it makes you vulnerable to heart break. I've fallen for the worst possible person. I let myself depend on her, knowing I shouldn't. Knowing I couldn't keep her. I let myself love her knowing I would lose her in the end. I have to blame myself. But that will come later with the guilt and the regret. Right now I have her with me and that's all I can care about.

This time when she kisses me, it isn't enough. I need to be closer to her. I can't get close enough. I pull her into my body, holding her tightly. But it isn't enough. She let's out a breathy sigh and I want her to do it again. Because I think I love that sound. And once isn't enough.

I long to bring her closer, but it doesn't seem physically possible. She is flush against me. And she has a death grip on my shoulders. Then suddenly a bed appears in the room, and I don't know if it was me that thought it or her. But it's there and we are falling into it. I am moving over her and we're still kissing.

She can't know it's there but it's like she does. Because she grips my arm and she's searing my skin through my clothes. I have to swallow down the shame that it's there. I almost wish I had her before it all. But I have to push it away because I'm suffocating in her scent. I'm falling into her very presence. She's all around me and I can't escape her. I couldn't if I tried. But I don't want to and I never would.

I want to feel her, really feel her. I want her skin under my fingers. I want every inch of her. I want to claim her and I keep thinking she wants the same. I want to know what it feels like inside her. What it feels like to be completely surrounded by her, my arms around her, my fingers in her hair, my mouth on hers, my tongue tangled with her. I want to know what it feels like to be completely unified with a person. I want to know what that feels like, but I can't. I can't because I love her and I can't hurt her in this way. And I'm pulling away. And she's looking at me, confused and heartbroken. Don't worry I feel the same.

I don't know what to do. I've never been in this kind of situation where we're being forced to different sides. When all I want to do is fight with her, fight for her--because I would die for her. But she doesn't know that, and she can't know that. She'll never know that.

And it's compassion that she wants, and I can't give it. Then she's crying and I can't handle it. Because all I want to do is take her back into my arms and I can't. Because she can't depend on me. Because she might be strong for me, but I am still weak. Because I can't be her hero. Because this mark on my arm has already made me her enemy.

**A/N2: I think I forgot to mention that this is definitely HBP compliant. In fact this would be set smack dab in the middle of HBP. Anyways, that's all I wanted to add! Please review! -Mac**


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